


A Night At Court

by Wind_Writes



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Established Relationship, F/M, Historical Fantasy, Mutual Pining, Romance, The Witcher May Have Played A Roll In Me Writing This
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wind_Writes/pseuds/Wind_Writes
Summary: Aged by the spoils of war, scarred by their loyalty to a crown that wouldn’t care if they lived or died, you scanned their features in the hope of finding someone you knew who would be willing to relay the information you needed. It wasn’t until your sight landed on one man in particular, standing at the far side of the room, seemingly alone, that your pulse began to race and your breath caught itself in your lungs.
Relationships: Sweet Pea (Riverdale)/Reader
Kudos: 14
Collections: A Very Merry Serpent Hissmas





	A Night At Court

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moegan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moegan/gifts).



“You’ve got to help me out here.”

Signaling for a refill, Sweet Pea ran a hand over his tired features. He’d wandered into the pub in search of a drink and some mind numbing silence, not an overly dramatic bard following him around, begging to get him out of yet another situation he’d slept his way into. “I don’t have to help you with anything.” 

Slipping in beside his friend at the bar, Fangs took the beer the bar keep sent in their direction and held it just out of Sweet Pea’s reach. “Friends help friends out.”

“Who said I was your friend,” Sweet Pea muttered. Dark eyes watched in irritation as Fangs held the much needed beverage hostage, Sweet Pea’s lip turning up in a sneer and his dark gaze meeting his counterparts humorous one.

Fate had connected him with the musically inclined idiot years ago, in a place very similar to the pub they found themselves in now, and for whatever reason, Sweet Pea had been unable to shake Fangs’s company since. There were times he found his traveling partner entertaining and he’d even dare to say his presence enjoyable on the rare occasion, but to classify them as friends was something Sweet Pea refused to acknowledge.

Fangs, on the other hand, didn’t agree. “If I’m not your friend, then what is your excuse for traveling around the continent with me?”

“You don’t know when you aren’t welcome?” the taller man suggested, arm reaching out to try and take his beer back.

Moving quickly, Fangs shifted away from the offending arm and held the full stein farther from its owner. “Always so angry.”

A deep growl rumbled in Sweet Pea’s chest and patrons on the other side of the warrior shifted farther down the bar, not wanting to be anywhere close should he erupt. 

“Will you give me my beer.”

“Only if you agree to help me.” One of the few unfazed by Sweet Pea’s ire, Fangs took a sip from the mug in his hand before passing it back to his glowering friend. Sweet Pea loved beer and his horse; keeping one of those two things hostage was the quickest way to earn a punch in the gut and lose any opportunity at getting the help Fangs desperately needed.

Placated for the moment with the return of his drink, Sweet Pea drank deeply and mulled over Fangs’s request. “Why do you need my help.”

The question Fangs was hoping not to have to answer. It was no secret that Fangs had made himself popular amongst the high ranking women in court, but with popularity came enemies and his enemies at the moment took the shape of those high ranking women’s husbands. Taking a great interest in his cuticles, Fangs waited a beat before answering, mulling around the best way to word his current situation. “Because there may or may not be a few lords that consider me persona non grata.”

“Then I’d suggest staying away from court,” Sweet Pea countered.

Fangs gave an exasperated sigh. He shouldn’t be surprised that was Sweet Pea’s first response. The man spent his time slinking around the woods and killing monsters with only a horse to talk to, expecting him to understand why Fangs couldn’t turn down the invitation would be too much to ask. “I can’t just not show up. I’ve been requested to perform.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

Doing his best not to let Sweet Pea’s jabs get under his skin, Fangs gave the man beside him a nudge. “You get food and drink in exchange for watching my back.” Signaling for a drink of his own, Fangs did his best to make it appear that Sweet Pea was getting the better end of the deal. “It’ll only be a couple of hours. You’ll have a great time.”

Sweet Pea stared into his drink, his reflection in the amber liquid looking back at him. There was only one answer that would get him to the silence he’d been in search of since entering the establishment, but it wasn’t the answer he wanted to give. “You won’t leave me be until I agree, will you.”

“Nope,” Fangs grinned broadly.

Downing the last of his ale, a groan vibrated past Sweet Pea’s lips. There would be no peace until Fangs got what he wanted and if Sweet Pea went along to court there was at least the chance he could escape the bard during the evening affairs. And what sort of man would he be to turn down free drink. 

Resigned, Sweet Pea gave a subtle nod, “I’m only doing this once.”

Fangs visibly relaxed, the breath he’d been holding coming out in a relieved sigh. There was no guarantee that there still wouldn’t be trouble, but with Sweet Pea there, Fangs at least had someone watching his back. 

Nodding a thanks to the bar keep, Fangs sipped on his beer and watched the stoic warrior out of the corner of his eye. His clothing was faded and worn, unsuitable for any place other than the road and the particular scent of horse and death was radiating around him. 

“You aren’t going to wear that, are you?” He teased, earning him an eye roll from Sweet Pea.

There were a lot of things Sweet Pea was good at, but dressing for court was not one of them and Fangs intended to rectify that problem as his thanks.

* * *

The hall echoed with shouts and cheers from the gathering parties; lords and ladies, military commanders and merchants were meshed together in an evening of food, drink and celebration. Royalty glittered at the head table as they surveyed their guests, watchful eyes scanning the faces of those present to ensure no uninvited parties had slipped through the doors. It was a celebration of battlefield victory and the joining of families, two highly sought after families coming together as one in marriage.

It was a strategic union, that was for sure, but it was a union that had left those who found themselves on the outs with either family anxious to see it unconsummated. You’d heard the murmurings through the council grape vine for months, even rumors that one of your own would step in to prevent the evening from happening, but you had yet to confirm it. Though your reasons for showing up tonight were of a self serving nature, you were curious, nonetheless, to see if any of those rumors would come to fruition.

Dressed to blend in amongst the rest of nobility in a cream colored gown, you floated amongst the groups, absorbing what gossip the loose lipped ladies had to offer. Between petty discussion of banquette designs and accommodations they’d been given, a few of the women had let slip information of a more intriguing nature that had you positioning yourself towards the back of the hall, intent on finding out if the men of the evening shared the same sentiment.

Helping yourself to a passing glass of wine, you surveyed the men who’d come to celebrate. Some were ones you’d seen in passing during your own time in court while others were ones that had made the sea their home, attending only to secure trade partners and deals with those who had the pockets to support them. Fresh faced soldiers, barely old enough to shave yet carrying a sword and eager to lose their life for a land they’d barely seen, cheered and drank merrily, while their weathered faced counterparts, men who had seen more than their fair share of tragedy, kept an eye on the crowd.

Aged by the spoils of war, scarred by their loyalty to a crown that wouldn’t care if they lived or died, you scanned their features in the hope of finding someone you knew who would be willing to relay the information you needed. It wasn’t until your sight landed on one man in particular, standing at the far side of the room, seemingly alone, that your pulse began to race and your breath caught itself in your lungs.

It had been over a year since you’d seen him last; it had been a night of tangled sheets and hushed declarations that wouldn’t soon be forgotten but like fire, it had been snuffed out before it could consume you both. 

As with all of your entanglements with him before, obligations had pulled you in separate directions and you’d left him with nothing but a note on the pillow and the hope that the two of you would see each other again. The parting hadn’t been ideal, but it had been what needed to be done at the time.

You’d lost track of his movement’s months ago, afraid of what had become of him when you hadn’t caught wind of any chatter about him, but seeing him standing there now, looking as irritated as ever, eased the worry that had been sitting on your heart.

Far more interested in what he had to say than the information you needed to gather, you slipped your way through the crowd towards the lone warrior, sliding your arm along the small of his back and stopped just behind him, insuring to hide yourself from the members of the head table. “Never thought I’d see you here.”

Sweet Pea could feel the color drain from his features at the sound of your voice. Of all the women who could have shown up in court tonight, you were the last one he’d expected. Not only had you made it painfully obvious in that past how much you detested court, but the nobility of this particular one were known not to tolerate people with your particular skills.

They’d rebuked any and all input from the council, refusing to allow a member to hold a position in their court, and since then, had gone as far as silencing anyone who they saw as an ally of the order. You showing up, no matter what your association with the council, was a risk and not one Sweet Pea thought you would take considering what he last heard of you.

“I could say the same about you.” Doing his best to remain impassive, Sweet Pea turned on his heel to face you. “What are you doing here?”

“Slowly devouring the souls of innocent men?” Fangs interrupted, a sneer spreading across his face as he slid up beside his friend.

There was no love lost between you and the bard, neither of you finding each other’s company particularly enjoyable and mostly tolerating the other’s presence for the sake of Sweet Pea. You never understood why Sweet Pea tolerated the musically inclined idiot, but there must be something redeeming about him- though you’d yet to see it.

“Fangs.” Lips tight with a smile, you eyed the uninvited guest over the rim of your goblet. “Haven’t slept your way into a hangman's noose yet?”

Fangs returned a similar smile, his own words dripping with disdain. “You wouldn’t be hiding in the back of the room because my patrons for the evening have a death warrant out for your kind, would you?”

Your grip on the goblet tightened, eyes scanning the room to see if there was someone who would take some of the wind from Fangs’s sail. Catching the eye of one particular lord known for his quick temper and wife with less than discreet affairs, you gave the gentleman a smile as he tipped his hat in your direction. “I think Lord Adler was looking for you. Something about seeing a man meeting your description climbing out of his wife’s chambers earlier this evening?”

The flush that worked its way up Fangs’s neck made your smile broaden.

Sweet Pea glanced at the man beside him. “You didn’t,” he groaned.

“Of course not. I have more sense than that,” Fangs insisted, his dark eyes filled with ire towards you. He was anxious enough about being in the hall as it was, you adding unwanted gossip and attention in his direction was not helping the situation.

“I highly doubt that,” you scoffed.

Fangs’s color continued to redden with every word and his voice pitched above the crowd in anger. “Don’t you have a lord to exploit.”

“If I’m looking for one, I’ll be sure to come to you for suggestions,” you spat backing, moving to stand toe to toe with the mouthy bard.

Tired of the childish bickering, Sweet Pea pulled you back and nudged Fangs towards the head table. “I think you’re needed at the front of the room.”

“She’s up to something,” Fangs muttered. He didn’t trust you on a good day, knowing full well the only side you were on was your own, and finding you in court only deepened his suspensions. Sweet Pea may be here to protect Fangs from vengeful lords, but what kind of friend would he be if he left Sweet Pea at your mercy. 

Waving off his friend’s concern, Sweet Pea watched Fangs maneuver through the crowd, few people paying attention to the bard until he picked up his instrument. Sweet Pea didn’t doubt that the troubles Fangs spoke of were true, but it was beginning to look like this evening was going to be far more boring than he’d anticipated.

A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as the first notes of a waltz began to fill the room and members of court began to take the floor. With wine continuing to flow and people’s interest diverted to the center of the hall, the tension that had worked its way through Sweet Pea’s muscles began to dissipate.

“You never answered me,” he murmured, dark eyes searching your features for an answer.

Attention pulled from the dancing couples and visiting soldiers, you met Sweet Pea’s gaze, pretending to have not heard him. “Hm?”

“What are you doing here, Y/N?” Sweet Pea reiterated. “Last I remembered, they didn’t take kindly to your kind around here.”

The genuine concern in his voice made you smile. Despite your differences and time apart, there was no doubting the feelings that burned between the two of you. It was those feelings that made you keep your play close to your chest, no wanting to involve Sweet Pea in something he had no hand in. “Just the same as the other ladies of court, enjoying the evening.”

“While I’m sure that is partially true, what’s the real reason you’re here.”

“There is no other reason,” you insisted, unable to meet his eyes.

Sweet Pea scoffed, humor in his voice. “You’ve never been much of a liar.”

That much you knew was true, especially when Sweet Pea was involved. No matter what words you spoke, your emotions could be read as plain as day across your face. You were far better suited for down right withholding and refusing to answer than you were for hiding the truth.

“I’m simply here for information,” you admitted.

His brows furrowed knowing full well you weren’t giving him the whole story. Nothing he’d seen so far this evening made him think you were here on your own accord; you didn’t seem attached to any particular lord and knowing you didn’t take any particular enjoyment from politics, the only other reason was you were doing someone else’s snooping. “Spying for the council? Sounds a bit out of character for you.”

Sweet Pea’s assumption sent your lip curling in irritation. You’d prided yourself on the successful separation you had maintained between yourself and council, it had kept you free to live your own life while opening doors that would otherwise have been closed to you. You were here tonight for yourself first, and if the information you gathered could be forwarded onto a friend or two to help the council’s cause, then so be it. “Who said I was spying for the council?”

“Then who,” he countered.

Bristling at the skepticism of his words, you downed the last of your wine and slammed the goblet down with more force than necessary. “That is none of your business.”

Despite your time apart, he still had the knack for pulling your temper out at the most unexpected moment.

Hands raised in surrender, Sweet Pea gave you smile. “Fair enough,” he relented.

Taking a moment to appreciate what stood beside him, Sweet Pea’s gaze trailed leisurely over your frame, dark eyes drinking in the way the dress clung to your curves just right. Hand reaching for the loose curls that hung around your shoulder, Sweet Pea wrapped your silky strands around one finger and tugged. “You look good, Y/N. It’s been a while.”

Shaking off his touch, you gave the man a rueful smile. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” a rare grin breaking across his features.

In all the bantering and questioning Sweet Pea had put you through tonight, not once had he divulged why he was here. If anyone stood out, it was the usually lone warrior who preferred the company of his horse to that of people. He rarely made an appearance anywhere other than a dingy pub so it was no question that he’d caught more than just your attention. “What about you? Why are you here, Sweet Pea?”

“A reason far less exciting than yours,” he whispered, hand trailing along your back.

A shiver worked its way through your system, his touch affecting you in a way no other man could.

“Next time Fangs drags you to something like this, don’t let him pick out your clothes.” Turning to face him, you ran your hands along the collar of his brightly embroidered shirt, very much missing his usual attire. “You look like a cheap merchant.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Finger ghosting along your cheek, Sweet Pea gave you a half hearted smile. “Care to dance?”

“Since when do you dance,” you questioned. There was no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you could slay both man or beast, you’d seen it with your own eyes, but tastefully maneuver the dance floor of a formal court ball? To say you were wary of that particular skill was an understatement. 

A flicker of amusement crossed his features and a chuckle vibrated deep in his chest as he brought your hand to his lips, leaving a kiss along your knuckles. “Just because you’ve never seen it, doesn’t mean I can’t.” 

With a smile and not another word spoken, Sweet Pea spun you into his arms as the minstrels picked up the next waltz and held you close, being sure to keep you to the back of the room but moving about with practiced ease. 

It took a moment for you to relax, anxious that you would pick up unwanted attention, but as the music filled the room and bodies joined the floor, it was hard not to get lost in and moment and it wasn’t long before you there was scarcely a breath between your body and his.

“I’ve missed you, Sweet Pea,” you murmured as a crescendo echoed against the walls. It was an admission you wouldn’t have dared to utter under normal circumstances, but with the sound of the strings in the background and the elegant atmosphere of the room, you found your guard slipping and feelings you knew were better kept to yourself, laid out in the open.

Something softened in Sweet Pea’s eyes, a flicker of emotion that you couldn’t place. His grip on your waist tightened and his lips rested against your brow for a moment as you continued to dance, but he didn’t utter a word. Some things, you supposed, were better left unsaid.

As the final chord echoed through the grand hall, Sweet Pea maneuvered the pair of you off floor and back against the far wall, his lips finding yours as the crowd broke into a round of applause at the conclusion of the song. His mouth was urgent against yours and you matched him with equal fever, the feel of his calloused hands against the silk of your dress sent your pulse racing. It had been too long since you’d last felt his touch against your skin, the need for him after a year of separation growing more urgent with every moment.

The sudden crash of a door and incoherent yelling broke the pair of you away suddenly, both of you out of breath and searching the room for the source of the commotion. Three men stood at the main doors of the hall, their swords drawn and their attention focused solely on a pale faced Fangs.

“It looks like your reason for being here just got a whole lot more exciting,” you murmured against Sweet Pea’s shoulder as the leader of the group moved towards the bard.

Sweet Pea groaned, irritated by the interruption. Dark eyes scanning the room, Sweet Pea watched as women shrieked and soldiers drew their swords ready to pounce. 

Leaving you with a kiss that promised more to come, he pushed his way through the crowd towards the three waiting men. His plan for making the evening a little more exciting hadn’t involved a sword fight, but he was a flexible man and if dispatching them would make it so you and him could find a more private place to get reacquainted, he was happy to deal with them.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> A (very late) secret santa gift for the lovely @lilhemmo. Apologies for the wait and hopefully this checks off something from your request list!


End file.
